Flowers for Mom
by planet p
Summary: AU; Nicholas and George go shopping. George/Michelle


**Flowers for Mom** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

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_1975_

'Look at this place!' says Dad. 'It's colossal!' I think_ colossal _must mean _big_, like the Coliseum. Dad is right, the store _is_ huge! It sells flowers, which come in all sorts of shapes and colors. I'm sure we'll be able to find some that Mom will like here.

Before we came into the store, Dad and I got a trolley from the trolley bay, and that's where I am now, sitting in the trolley; Dad's pushing the trolley.

I _could_ walk, of course – I'm _four_, not a _baby_ – but I'm feeling a bit sleepy. It's the afternoon and Dad's just picked me up from preschool, which is why I'm tired. I've been running around a lot today; we had a race at preschool. I didn't win, but I reckon I'm going to start practicing my running more in the backyard at home. I want to make sure that when I get to school I'm going to have as good a chance at winning as the other kids.

We're passing a large collection of roses when suddenly the trolley stops and I turn to Dad, wondering why we've stopped.

'You know what, buddy,' Dad says, 'my memory's so awful in my old age; I've forgotten what flowers are Mom's favorites.'

I laugh. Of course, Dad isn't _old_. Then I have a think about it. Suddenly, I realize, _I_ don't know Mom's favorite flowers, either! I feel a bit silly, so I say, 'She likes white flowers.'

White isn't a color. I learnt that today at preschool. It's a shade. So white can go with any of the colors and look just fine, just like black can. Even though I'm making it up, I'm sure Mom will like white flowers just fine.

I have a look around at the different types of flowers and decide that Mom will like them; even _I_ like them, and I'm a boy. When I told Jennifer at preschool I liked flowers, she laughed at me, but I didn't really care, I still thought flowers are pretty neat.

I don't know any of the kinds of flowers except for roses and daisies, so Dad pushes the trolley around for a while, looking at the different sorts of flowers, before a girl walks over to ask us if we need any help.

When the girl comes over, I decide that Dad will be okay without me for a while, and close my eyes. It's just because I'm tired.

When I open my eyes again, we're at home. Mom isn't home yet, but I suppose she might be driving home. Dad tells me I fell asleep so he just let me sleep. I must have been pretty tired. Stifling a yawn, I tell him that I was.

I ask if I can practice my running in the park, and he agrees. I guess he doesn't think I'm going to run very far; I'm full of energy but I'm only four, my legs aren't very big compared to his. If we had a race, I know Dad would _definitely_ win.

Dad puts the television on for a while and we sit down on the couch to watch it, then I'm sitting up and wondering how I fell asleep _again_. I turn around and see that Mom's back from work. She's holding the flowers Dad and I got her and I can see that she thinks they're nice. She's smiling at Dad and her eyes are all smiley-looking, too.

I like when she's happy, it makes me feel happy, too.

I don't get up from the couch, I want Mom and Dad to have some time alone to talk, and for Mom to say 'thanks' for the flowers and for Dad to say 'that's okay, you deserve them'.

I watch Mom and Dad hug, then sink down in my chair. Mom's seen me and is coming over. She'll want to know all about my day. She always asks how my day was, but when I go to ask how her day was, she's always asking me more questions.

After she's given me a hug, too, Mom asks me about my day and I tell her about the race; I don't tell her about Jennifer laughing at me, I don't want her to think I'd get all snooty over someone laughing at me, and I didn't anyway.

Finally, I get to ask her how her day was – yes! – and she says, 'Fine.'

I'm not sure if she's just saying it because she doesn't want to spoil our good moods, but I smile and tell her, 'You're the best, Mom!'

And she smiles back.

That's one of the things I love best about her; when she smiles, it's always real. I've seen other people smile, like some of the other parents at preschool, and sometimes it just doesn't look real, like maybe they're tired and annoyed but they still have to smile because that's what grownups do, plus they probably think it's kinda like their job because they're parents.

My mom doesn't do fake smiles.

She says something to Dad which I don't hear because I'm thinking about smiling, then she looks at me again and asks if I'm up for helping with dinner. Which I _am_. I love helping with dinner!

'I want to be a chef when I grow up,' I tell Mom, when we're walking to the kitchen. 'Or… one of those people who grow flowers; a flower gardener!'

Mom laughs.

I laugh, too.

Dad looks at us like he doesn't get the joke, and we laugh harder.


End file.
